The Other Half
by squinto
Summary: The life of fifteen year old James Pierce. What or who J.T. Yorke left behind. Semma included.
1. Chapter 1

The Other Half

The life of fifteen year old James Pierce. What J.T. Yorke left behind.

**Hey everyone! I'm writing this new FF that I hope is enjoyable. This first part is the POV of the main character who is J.T. and Liberty's fifteen your old son. **

**Read and Reply please! Thanks. **

**Chapter 1: Who is James Pierce?**

No one could possibly understand the thoughts of a fifteen year old as complicated as I am. That's the whole point. I want it to stay that way, I don't need my so-called parents asking me repeatedly, "What's up with your grades?" "Why are you so irresponsible?" or the most common, "Could you try doing one thing right?"

Robert, my _dad_, is probably one of Toronto's best attorneys, thus his lack of time being at home. Then when he has the two hours to spend with us, he's BS-ing about his job and messages left by my teachers. Debbie, my _mother_, just sits there and nods. Agreeing with him, I mean is it my fault Mademoiselle Devereaux, my old hag of a French teacher, has some of the sweatiest pits ever?

Trying to avoid the 'rent's' is pretty easy. Especially when they send you to you room telling you to "Think about your actions." I have the choices of: A.) Jump on the computer and look at curvy blondes, B.) Then as I come across Miss June, Nigel—my best friend—will IM me, suggesting we go skateboarding. C.) I'll either sneak out of my window with a skateboard in one hand down the side of my house and fall into Debbie's row of tulips. D.) Or if I had a sucky day, continue to Miss July.

I'm a rebel okay? Nigel of course thinks I'm the class clown. Referring back to the time when I asked the same annoying French teacher if she had a reservoir saved up under her arms because if she does, there's a leak. That one is a classic. It cost me a week in detention but definitely worth it, especially when Leah Cameron smiled about it. God, her smile is amazing.

Every kid in my ninth grade class wishes they had what I have. I live on the pretty wealthy side of town and in the only house on the block with a pool. My parent's, they have about three cars—each, but at least two is at our summer house. Actually I took the BMW on a joyride last month, it's in the shop now.

These tiny factoids I'm giving you aren't even close to what I experience on a day to day basis. You don't know about Robert's wine bottles that have been filled with apple juice, just to trick Debbie. You have no clue about what I discovered when I was twelve. The mistake I was about to make only a month ago. This is probably rated G compared to the truth. I just want know who exactly James Pierce is.


	2. A Stranger's Reply

**Chapter 2: A Stranger's Reply **

"Hey Deb? When can we empty the pool?"

He jumped at the sound of a knife being slammed unto the marble countertop.

"James! Do not call me, Deb or Debbie, I am your mother so I expect you to address me as that. And why would we empty the pool?"

He shrugged, "To skateboard at home. Their closing the community park, not cool at all." He picked up an apple out of the fruit bowl and bit into it. "Hey, do you think Robert could sue them or something?"

Debbie, who was preparing dinner and washing a few vegetables, shook her head ignoring the question.

"Honestly James, do you think Nigel calls his parent by their first name?"

"Well, those are his real parents." He murmured between another bite.

He heard silence as Debbie turned off the water nozzle and faced him. He quickly tried to make his way to the staircase.

"What did you say?" She asked sternly her head cocked at him.

James turned around knowing his only punishment for what he was about to say was a trip to his room. "I said, that Nigel calls his real parents mom and dad because they are. You and Robert are not my real parents. Just replacements."

With that, he ran up the stairs slamming the door behind him.

About an hour later, he was surprised to hear over the loud music coming from the computer to hear Debbie knocking on the door.

"Dinner's ready." She said quietly, the sound of her feet fading back downstairs.

James stood, the letter he had in his hand was written a week ago the fact that she had actually replied to his letter still had him in shock.

… _James, I appreciated your photo. Your definitely turning into a handsome young man. You look just like your father. I also enjoyed your CD though you definitely have some interesting choice of music. Looking forward to your reply and remember: 'If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking.' That's a Buddhist proverb. I love you James, never forget that. _

_Always with you, _

_Liberty Isaacs_

After hiding the letter inside one of his comic books he fixed his uncontrollably, curly hair, proceeding to wash his hands. He knew dinner would be difficult tonight, because of the meatloaf he hates and his dad's response about the ignorant remarks made to Debbie.

He wasn't surprised to find Robert and Debbie sitting patiently at the mahogany table, neatly set as it was every night. He pulled out the chair calmly.

"Afternoon," he directed toward Robert, who was watching him intently with cold eyes.

"Good evening," Robert replied picking up a glass bowl filled with steaming vegetables.

Dinner was actually quiet, no complaining about failing math grades or hectic day in the office. Except for the grandfather clock in the hall that chimed when it reached seven o'clock. By that time the plates were empty and his Chuck Taylor's were impatiently tapping on the ground.

"Can I uh… go to my room?"

He pushed his chair out ready to go upstairs when Roberts deep voice bellowed, "Sit."

He obeyed sitting back down.

"James, your mother and I think you need professional help."

"What?"

"I'm not done." Robert informed, the voice he used meant he was serious.

James closed his mouth rolling his eyes and sighing.

"We've scheduled an appointment for you tomorrow. You're getting counseling."

"Bull! I don't need counseling okay? I'm not going."

Debbie piped up now, "Young man, do not use that language!"

He pushed out the chair saving it from toppling over, "Hello! Wake up, Debbie and Robert! I'm perfectly fine. Maybe if you two would realize that I don't have a halo over my head only both of your constant nagging. You'd see that I just—." He noticed the hurt in Debbie's eyes and the shock on Roberts face. They didn't do anything to him, just for him to explode and judge them. Instead he ran upstairs and did something he chastised any grown boy for doing, he cried into his pillow.

Downstairs after his outburst, he could hear Debbie crying too. "Rob did I—did I fail? I try so hard to be the best mother possible and he just doesn't seem to get it."

"He's a teenager Deb and he's going through adolescence. It's normal. We'll just hope that counseling works."

James talked into his pillow, "I'm not going." He repeated.


	3. I Hate Mondays

**Chapter 3: I Hate Mondays**

James looked around the office curiously. What hell hole did his parents really bring him in? The walls were neatly decorated with plaques awarded to Emma Nelson. He glanced back towards the door before picking up a picture off the desk and studying it. It was a blonde with a younger man.

"James Pierce?"

A voice from behind him asked, he turned to find a lady, the same one form the picture, smiling at him. She held out a hand.

"I'm Dr. Emma Nelson."

James took out the ear phones out of one ear, before extending his own hand. They shook hands, little thoughts about her perfect body raced through his mind but remembered that this was his professional help for the month. She was still smiling as she offered him a seat.

"That's was my brother by the way."

He looked at the picture again, "What?"

"Jack, my brother. He's probably just four years older than you."

He nodded not really caring about her brother, "Dr. Nelson, I hate to be rude but I was actually forced into this whole thing by my two parents. I was hoping I could just stay in here for an hour and not say anything, while they waste their money."

Emma nodded, "Okay. That'll work." She stood from the chair she'd pulled up in front of him and went to the desk.

Jack smiled placing the earphone back in his ear. As he noticed from the large clock on the wall, she cleared off her desk, organizing everything into neat piles,

_"She's a psychiatrist?"_ He thought to himself.

She then preceded to pull out a book from her desk and skim through a book titled "Every Woman's Dream" and turned to a page toward the back. James's couldn't help but laugh a bit at the title. This caused Emma to look up,

"What's so funny?" She asked him not catching on to his amusement.

"Nothing," He said trying to stop.

"You can tell me anything James, I'm here to listen."

James rolled his eyes knowing what she was doing, prying. Just like his parents.

"Dr.,--."

"Call me Emma."

James nodded, "Okay, Emma. Your book has the funniest title I've ever seen."

Emma read the title to herself, "It's a good book though. It's not about what I'm guessing your expecting it to be about from the title."

Emma watched him as he stood from the chair and looked out the window even though a huge tree was right in front of it.

"What do you think I'm imagining?"

Emma couldn't help but chuckle at her guess, "That this book is probably about some woman's erotic desires." She smiled and he realized she was playing. "It's not about that, it's actually about a successful lady in her early thirties. She's married, lives in a descent house with her husband, who actually owns this rapidly growing computer franchise. Know what's so cool about this autobiography?"

"What?"

"They were both my classmates throughout high school."

He nodded wondering what high status the author was that she was actually writing an autobiography. Now that he was actually conversing with this lady who placed a bookmark in the book, he gave her a glance or two. Easy on the eyes and blonde, he always liked blondes but the thought that she was probably fifteen years older than he was kind of put a halt on what he was imagining she wore under her navy blue argyle shirt.

She spoke finally, after placing the book back in the desk she smiled looking at him he stared back as if they were about to start a staring contest.

"James, you're a high-schooler, are you popular?"

He shrugged returning back to the seat, "What do you mean, if I'm like the basketball player who dates all the cheerleaders? Or popular as in I'm the guy you go to if you want math test answers?"

Emma nodded, her bangs bounced as she did so.

"I don't believe in labels, it's demeaning but it doesn't mean I don't know what they call me at school. I'm the 'class clown' according to my friend Nigel who is labeled as the 'chess club geek.'"

"It's admirable that you don't believe in labels. I mean when I was in high school, everyone was in their own category. You just want to be James Pierce right?"

He nodded, "If I knew who he was."

Emma opened her mouth to say something but a small beeper on her desk went off.

"Does that mean the sessions over?" James asked watching as she pushed a button turning off the repeating beeps.

"Yeah," she stood brushing off her skirt, James stood from the seat turning off his music player that remained on during their small chat.

"Thanks," he said quietly reaching for the door handle.

"James?"

He turned around, Emma gave him a hopeful look, a look that told James she really cared. Someone besides his surrogate family and Liberty actually cared about what he considered useless.

"I can expect you again Wednesday, right?"

James hesitated to answer even though he planned on ditching his house after school today to avoid this session that he intended not to attend. It couldn't be bad to continue, someone to possibly talk to besides Nigel.

"Yeah, see you then."


	4. A New Friend

_**This chapter includes a character Leah Cameron, last name familiar? It'll become clearer as the story continues. It's because this story starts after "If You Leave" (season 6). I promise it will become clear as it progresses. Thank you.**_

**Chapter 4: A New Friend **

Nigel Linden has never been to school late or missed a day of school, except for the time in grade three when he had the chicken pox. He has medals lined up on his bedroom shelves not because he was MVP of Charles Abrams Academy soccer team, but he was a genius at chess and he had many framed awards for his perfect attendance and flawless grades.

James' walls were only filled with posters of his favorite movies, bands and comics. He knew he could have what Nigel had but thought it was too late, Nigel had been getting recognition for his achievements in school since he could talk. James could remember the first day they met at one of Debbie's dinners for Christmas. They were only four and he was playing with the train set around the Christmas tree when in comes one of the tallest four year olds he's ever seen with dark brown hair in a new crew cut. He sat down next to James, who shifted his attention from the train to the odd stranger next to him.

"Do you know what train's run on?"

James looked at the plastic train set in front of them.

"A track of course." James replied, curious why this boy would ask him such a dumb question.

"No, they travel on tracks. The train is actually powered by the nonrenewable resource coal." He tripped up on the word nonrenewable, and James had no clue what he was talking about.

James stood up, pushing one of his thick curls out of his eyes and studied the boy again. One of his shoelaces were untied and the white dress shirt his parents had to beg him to wear was wrinkled. James had switched into his favorite Superman sweatshirt despite Debbie's commands to wear the knitted sweater her mother made him for Christmas.

"I'm James. What's your name?"

"Nigel Linden, and I'm four years old. Do you like Peanut butter?"

James knew as soon as Nigel asked that question, they would be friends forever.

He wasn't wrong, eleven years later, they were still walking through school together enduring what ever torture high school had to offer. Today he was copying Nigel's homework who was talking about the upcoming summer that he would be spending with his grandparent's who lived in the States.

"I've only been there once and I was a probably three so I don't remember anything there. That answer is negative 56 by the way. I do remember this girl next door, her name was Becca, she had the prettiest green eyes and my grandma let us play together. Best day's of my life."

A shadow appeared over both of them as they sat in the back of their first period class waiting for the teacher to come in. Nigel looked up at the person, nudging James who after copying the last answer, finally looked up.

"Hey James," Leah Cameron, who was well known among those in the grade and considered one of the prettiest girls smiled at James.

"Hi Leah," He was able to say finally.

She waved at Nigel who waved back, he never was as fascinated with her as other boys were.

"So James, I'm having my fifteenth birthday party in a week. It's nothing big just some friends at my house, I was wondering if you would like to come? Nigel can come too if he wants." She smiled sweetly, James melted.

"Yeah, I can…can come."

Leah tossed back her sandy blonde hair, "Great! Can't wait." She waved at both of them and left when one of her friends entered the classroom.

"Nigel, we were just invited to Leah Cameron's party."

Nigel snatched his homework from James' grasp as their teacher walked in.

"So, it's not a huge party."

"Exactly! She invited a few of her friends, that obviously means I'm considered one of her friends."

"Shh," Nigel says pointing to their teacher who was now standing at the front of the classroom trying to quiet down the class.

That whole entire period even though they were doing a review in class for finals, James could only look at the back of her head. Beautiful curly hair, she had a great smile too and deep hazel eyes. Everyone knew of course that those eyes were filled with sadness. Her father was all she had basically, no mother. It was something he'd always wondered about, did she ever feel the same way he did? His biological parents were also young when they had him, at least her father wanted to take care of her.

"James? Mr. Pierce?"

James looked up at the math teacher pointing to the problem on the board. It was an equation, he groaned. Math was not an easy subject for him.

"I don't know the answer." He said quietly.

She explained it again, expecting it to be easier. He still didn't solve it and the snickers across the room were becoming louder.

"It's 42." Nigel mumbled beside him.

"42?"

He said out loud shrugging.

"That is correct, may I recommend you actually studying?"

He groaned slamming his head down on the desk.

Later that afternoon Nigel ran up to him gripping a skateboard in his hand, James loosened the green tie around his neck, he hated the uniform they had to wear.

"Do you want to come to my house? I have a new video game."

James shook his head, "Nope. I'm going to stop by the post office, drop off a letter."

"I can come along if you want? My cello lesson doesn't start until six today."

"I think I'm going to do this alone," James dropped his own skateboard on the ground, "I'll call you tonight okay?"

Nigel nodded, "All right, see you tomorrow."

James went in the opposite direction than he did normally. He held tightly in his hand the letter he was sending back. "Would she reply this time?" He asked himself biting his bottom lip and hoping she would. As he left the school's extremely large campus he saw Leah entering her father's car leaning over to give him a small peck on his cheek. He drove off as she closed the door.

He was a mechanic, or maybe he owned a garage. James wasn't sure, but knew that he was strict about boys when it came to his daughter. What father wasn't?

About half a mile down he could see the post office coming into view he left the skateboard by the door knowing he was just going to drop it off and try to get home before Debbie did.

As he entered the store, he ran into a man exiting.

"Sorry," He sputtered trying to grab the envelope that flew out his hand, the guy looked back at him oddly muttering "It's alright." As the door closed behind him.

James stood up able to get balance and veer off eyes that were staring at the commotion at the door.

He dropped the letter in the box. Sighing because he couldn't use the mailbox at home. The chances of Debbie finding a letter to his real mother was too high, and get him into trouble that could be easily avoided. At least this afternoon she was going to some pottery class, because desperately wanted a "hobby."

As he left the post office James noticed a white envelope behind the bush next to the door. It probably fell from the man he guessed reading the senders name. He returned inside to drop it off but read the senders name again.

"Daniel Van Zandt?"

He said out loud not particularly to anyone but out of shock, he looked for the man that so awkwardly looked at him and found no one. His address was scribbled on the envelope, not neatly but legible. Hopefully the letter wasn't important, because before he could think of what he was doing James stuffed the letter in his pocket. This stranger had his birth mother's maiden name.


	5. Miniature Disasters

**Chapter 5: ****Miniature Disasters**

"Drop me off here, please."

"James, the office is only around the corner."

"Exactly, everyone knows are car." James opened the door immediately as the car came to a sudden stop, "I'll skate back." He showed her the skateboard in his backpack and turned the opposite direction before Debbie could tell him anything. She looked as he ducked behind a newspaper stand and did not move until she pulled away.

This time when he walked into the office Emma Nelson looked up at him, smiling.

"James, glad to see you again."

He sat down in the chair in front of her desk.

"Ms. Nelson-- I mean Emma. Am I the only child you talk to?"

Emma shook her head, "No, I have many patients your age, even younger than you. Why?"

"Do any of them attend Charles Abrams Academy by any chance?"

Emma looked down, "I can't give out information like that, are you concerned that others may know about you? Because whatever you tell me stays confidential."

"No, I… I trust you. It's just that, you don't hear kids at school talking about their psychiatrist sessions. I don't want anyone to spread word because they spot me walking in here."

"What do you think they could say?"

James looked up at the ceiling tugging at a curl on his head.

"Many things, like I saw James Pierce walking into a kook clinic yesterday. Finally he gets the help he needs." James shook his head dismally, "That's uncool, and I wouldn't want to probably miss out on one of the best things ever because of that."

"What's that best thing ever?"

James couldn't help but grin again at the thought that he was actually invited to Leah Cameron's birthday party.

"Is it a girl?" Emma had to ask because of the expression on his face.

James nodded, "Gorgeous girl, and I would hate to miss out on that."

"Your parents, do you talk to them, about those things? Like being invited to a very important party?"

James laughed at that, "Are you kidding me? Debbie would blow it out of proportion and he would forget the next minute."

She noticed that he didn't refer to his parents as mom or dad.

"Is that how you feel about telling them James that they would make a big deal or ignore it?"

"That's what I know will happen."

Emma stood from behind her desk, straightening her pin-striped pants.

"Okay. Were going to do some role playing. I will be you and you will be, lets see, your mom. Okay?"

James nodded standing up across from Emma.

Emma deepened her voice as she began, "Mom, I was invited yesterday to a girls birthday party, I reall--."

"James! Is this a girl you like? How adorable! What's her name? I want you to invite her parents, maybe I can help chaperone this party, I'm guessing there'll be boys and girls there and I know you teenagers."

James took a breath from his accurate rendition of Debbie's reaction to news.

"Have you been invited to a lot of parties?"

James shook his head, "only my good friend Nigel and neither does he."

"So maybe your mom is happy for you, I mean when she hears something specials has happened to you."

James thought about it. It could be possible, he did run very low on good news. But, what was Robert's reason for giving him no attention at all.

"So what about the dad?"

Emma cleared her throat, "Dad, I was invited to this party. It's coming up soon and I would like to go."

"That's nice, would you pass me a new pen this one is out."

Emma rubbed her forehead, "Do you and your father get along James?"

James shook his head, "No, he's stern. Disciplines more than Deb."

"Nothing severe?"

James shook his head, he closed his eyes. This was always the best treatment for him, close your eyes and count to ten. Suddenly, the clock on the wall wasn't ticking. Emma Nelson in her pinstriped pants and white blouse was no longer there. His parent's weren't as embarrassing as he explained to Emma Nelson they were and he would be able to get some things off his chest.

"Robert use to drink… a lot."

He was able to say out loud as the tenth second was over.

"What do you mean, as in alcoholic?" Emma sat down and directed James to do the same.

"No, but once it got out of hand. He was actually laid off from his job back when I was seven or eight. So he actually spent a lot of time at home. One day Debbie was across the street talking to a neighbor. I realized she spent a lot of time outside the house during those few months, anyway. I was trying to show him the A plus I received in art and I thought he would've been happy. He pushed me away but I insisted I show him. Then, when I guess he was tired of me, pushed me into the leg of the chair. I never told Deb, I think he was sorry because he sobered up but once in a while he'll drink late at night. He replaces the glasses with apple juice, to trick Debbie."

Emma shook her head dismayed, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," James replied looking down into his lap.

"James, no matter what. Your parents love you, or else they wouldn't be getting you this help."

There was silence, James thinking how adoptive parents could possibly love him more than his birth parents, and they gave him up. Emma wanted James to say anything, she cared and for some reason out of all her patients, she wanted to help him out the most.

"Okay, you've earned yourself the first homework assignment." James groaned, homework was not his favorite word.

"It's simple, I want you tell your parents about this party and how important it is to you. Most of the time you underestimate how they will react and you'll never know unless you try."

James made a mental note to try it out, though he doubted Ms. Nelson could understand his complex parents. Lately all he'd been thinking about was Danny van Zandt. He'd searched the name on the Internet the same way he'd searched for Liberty van Zandt and James Tiberius Yorke, but unlike those two Danny van Zandt returned no matched results. James sits in the chair, wondering if Emma usually gives her patients so much space. He actually liked that about this. What he expected was a inquisitive lady who asked "how do you feel about that" after every statement. Instead, she let him think a lot. Last night, he considered what they talked about Monday. The whole entire label situation he and Nigel suffered from at school became unbearable at times. He's sure he would've had more to think about if he didn't act like so grouchy for most of the first session.

James taps on the arm rest of the chair, looking around the room. His eyes settle on the picture of Emma and her brother. There parents must be proud, he thinks. Their daughter is a psychiatrist and has a seemingly good relationship with her younger brother.

His parents, his biological parents, what he would do if he had the chance to actually meet his mom would be amazing. He knows that his father was actually killed not that long after he was born. He discovered this the same day he found the chest in the attic. The chest that he was sure his parents had no intention of showing him. That was the hardest, part. They wanted to trick him into believing they were actually his parents. He never could believe that, he looked nothing like them. His skin was lighter, his hair uncontrollably curly and there personal traits was completely different than theirs. He enjoyed having a fun time, making jokes. Robert and Debbie thought that re-runs of Lost was entertaining.

He had questions, that Robert and Debbie couldn't answer only his mom. He'd been considering lately if he should visit her in Calgary, he had the money and everything to get there. All he needed was an honest opinion and it couldn't be from a well-doer like Nigel, who he knows would tell him to get parental permission. And telling Emma would probably give her acquiescence to talk to his parents.

Luckily the alarm on Emma's desk went off, he stood quickly. Maybe that Danny Van Zandt, could tell him more—if he was related to his mother.

"See you next weeks James." Emma said smiling, "and remember your homework."

James nodded, "Bye."

That afternoon, James approached Debbie who was outside intently caring for her petunias.

"Deb—Mom?" He asked as she turned to look at him.

"Yes, James?" She asked smiling at his correct usage of "mom."

James closed his eyes, change the subject he thought, but this was suppose to work, Emma told him to reason.

"I was invited to a party, for next week Friday. It's Leah Cameron's party, she's turning fifteen and I would like to go."

The smile on her face vanished; she stood reaching for the stack of mail resting on the porch. She revealed to him a Charles Abram's Academy envelope.

"Your mid term progress grades came in today. There was no progress, your failing math. There is no way your going to a party."

James' heart sunk, he'd rather have her overreact than have her tell him he can't go at all.

"I have time before finals, I'll ask Nigel to help me. Just let me go to this party. It's important to me."

She shook her head, "No James, you will be studying for your finals everyday for the next three weeks until finals. I'm putting a pause on those sessions you've been having after school."

"So I can spend my entire summer getting counseled?"

"What else did you have planned?" Debbie returned to her petunias.

James shook his head disappointedly there was no way his F in math was going to reach at least a C by next week Friday. He wanted so badly to go to her party, he longed for it and now, it wasn't going to happen.


	6. When Does It End

**Chapter 6: When Does It End**

It took half an hour and a train to reach Daniel Van Zandt's small house. It left James to wonder why he would be on the other side of town to mail or receive some letter. He was dressed in his school pants and a t-shirt he had to stuff in his backpack to replace the John Abrams Academy shirt so that anyone he encountered wouldn't ask why he wasn't at school. A few people stopped and looked at him curiously but asked no questions to the boy with pure integrity on his face.

He knew Nigel was wondering where he was and he didn't forget to leave a detailed message on his friend's phone so he did not get him into trouble with his own unaware parents. Debbie was already upset at James' refusal to talk to her that morning and Robert was still on his case from that argument a few nights ago. He wasn't so pleased with himself either, the past days he's been trying to get any extra credit from his teachers doing anything that will bring his grade up—just to go to Leah's party. Friday was the best day to skip school he felt, because if his parents were wondering where he was, he could use the excuse of studying after school at the library that was a great distance from their house.

Walking up the narrow sidewalk he gripped the envelope in his sweaty hands tighter. What if this was a relative of his mother? He could learn so much of what he actually wanted to know, but what if the stranger wasn't open to the idea of some strange kid showing up and asking a lot of questions? Or would he be the kind of person to demand a guardians number and tell them their child appeared on his doorstep interrogating him on his family background.

When he reached for the doorbell, the front door opened. The same man who he had the collision with, stood bewildered, a trash bag in his hand stepped out.

"You again, hi."

James stood motionless for a minute and then held out his hand to give the man his envelope.

"Mr. Van Zandt?" He inquired, as the tall man placed down the trash bag.

"Yes, I'm Danny Van Zandt," he took the envelope, not thanking James, "and who are you?"

"My name is James Pierce, I have questions for you Mr. Van Zandt."

James let his nervous foot shake uncontrollably in the only chair available in the small house. Their were unpacked boxes all around the living room indicating that this was a new house for the young guy, with a curly goatee and even curlier hair pulled back.

Danny sat across from him on a sturdy box, handing him a bottled water.

"I'd offer you a beer, but I think your underage."

James put up a hand, shaking his head to silently inform that he was okay.

"So, I remember you from the post office and I appreciate you coming here to return a letter personally, but I have to know. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm James, fifteen years old a—a reasonably okay student at John Abrams Academy."

The man in front of him looked puzzled, "Not really the information I need. You're not trying to say you're my kid, are you? 'Cause I am 100 percent sure your not… I'm barely older than you… Are you selling something?"

James let out and agitated groan, he had all the questions ready in his mind as he traveled here and now he couldn't remember what his first motives were.

"Are you by any chance related to Liberty Van Zandt, or—or Liberty Isaacs?"

Danny leaned back in his chair raising an eyebrow.

"We have the same parents, therefore blood. So, yeah I'm her younger brother. What's the deal?"

James could feel his hand shaking, as much as he wanted it to stop. He licked his dry lips, and it spread into a small grin.

He held out a shaky hand to Danny, "I'm your nephew."

Leah glanced back towards the classroom door again, and then to the empty seat next to Nigel who was looking back at her confused. She was hoping James was just running late, as he always did to stall during quizzes, when really he was hiding in the boy's washroom, writing a fake pass.

She wanted to talk to him more, even though her friends called him a "hilarious loser" or "farting fuzzball." It was a little immature to be coming from girls in grade ten, who were older than herself.

"Miss Cameron, are you and Mr. Lindon exchanging _réponses_?"

Leah shook her head, "No, Mademoiselle, I was wondering what time it was and hoped he had the time."

Mademoiselle Devereaux gave her a death stare, "Strike _un_, Miss Cameron."

Leah bit her lip, afraid to turn around and apologize to Nigel. Who was still unable to understand what she was searching anxiously for.

"I can't believe this."

James was irritated by his uncle's constant repetition of words after explaining his whole entire situation to him. He could tell that this man was not a very serious person, and he couldn't possibly confide in him but, this is real blood. Real family.

"So are you in contact with my mom… or Liberty?" James asked hoping his uncle would say yes.

Instead he shook his head, "No, not really. She lives in Calgary, I know that. She's married, no kids…" He glanced nervously at James, "Well, except for you."

James ignored the last comment, "I read about her husband on the internet, do you know him?"

Danny nodded, a curl at the front of his head escaped and he brushed it back.

"Yes, we actually went to high school together."

"And did you go to school with my dad? J.T. Yorke?"

Danny nodded again, then paused grinning at an observation that entered his mind.

"Hey! Your name is James, like his… James Tiberius Yorke!"

James never really noticed that he shared the same first name of his biological father. Apparently Debbie and Robert did leave something special with him.

Danny shook his head as he reminiscence on the old days back at Degrassi, with his sister and friends in their backyard hot tub, then J.T.'s embarrassment after pulling down his trunks.

"So, why don't you and my mother communicate?"

"I'm not quite sure," he sighed, "She is and always has been truly devoted to work. We probably don't find the time to stop and talk for a little."

James looked at his wrist and then realized his watch wasn't strapped around his wrist, he pulled out his cell phone and read the time, it would take a while for the next train to come and he needed enough time to get home.

"I have to leave," James stood, stretching his legs.

Danny walked to the door, "Got to get home before your parents know you skipped school?"

James nodded and Danny smiled with satisfaction, "High school… those were the days."

Three buckets of paint were lined up against a plain white wall. She felt something was missing in the family room besides the absence of a family. Sure, she had Spike, Snake and Jack back home, but she was in her thirties, without a ring on her finger. It wasn't there were guys who weren't interested, there was a lot of them that she would date and never see again. She found it odd that none of her emotions had been stirred up since high school, with her last steady boyfriend. Sean Cameron, wherever he was now, left her and became her source of life again after returning. That didn't last as long as suspected, after he admitted to her the day of graduation Ellie was pregnant.

It seems like a very long time ago now, but she can still imagine him in faded jeans and a wife beater. After going to university, she had to try her best to erase thoughts of him from her mind, but now and then, moments like standing in front of a white empty wall, her mind wonders.

Oddly, as depressing as job as it was, listening to adolescents younger than her suppressed a lot of those thoughts. Like the fourteen year old girl she sees on Monday's who avoids her fighting parents to hook up with random boys she can find anywhere. Then the eighteen year old boy, with acceptance letters from multiple universities, who tried to take his own life when his partner left him. She couldn't look inside these kids and teenagers mind and see what they were feeling, but they found her as an outlet, to be able to talk to someone who actually remembers the struggles of being their age.

James was something special. There was a patient she had once, that reminded her so much of him. Sadly, that patient died from drug overdose, unable to realize the help she was willing to give. That patient, a sixteen year old boy, who was raised by his negligent grandfather for two years after his parent's death, had the same sadness in his eyes as James did. There was an unknown absence in the both of them, something she wasn't sure no one would be able to find out.


	7. On the Way

**Chapter 7: On the Way**

A ticket to Calgary was worth: 191 dollars, missing out on Leah's party and severe punishment from Debbie and Robert… which might not occur if he decided to stay with his mother.

Amazingly, his grades went up to barely a C, but passing nonetheless. Debbie was proud of him encouraging him to "keep it up and those C's will become A's!" Robert nodded his head in approval when she read to him James' progress report. He felt though that Leah was more proud of him than his parents, giving him a high five when she glanced at his report. Of course her friends scoffed but she ignored their arrogance. On his way home she ran up beside him and Nigel reminding them about her party later that afternoon. He smiled goofily, then remembered his plans to leave tonight. Nigel had no idea about his arrangement and James was definitely not sure how to tell his worrywart

friend.

"So my mom is starting this organic only diet plan thing. My dad said he's willing to try it too which means a lot of healthy stuff for me. I was wondering if your parents will consider having me for dinner until their "diet" ends."

James hopped unto his skateboard riding away from Nigel who struggled to keep pedaling on his bike.

"Hey, why are you so quiet all of a sudden? You were practically melting when Leah talked to you."

Nigel raised an eyebrow when James only shrugged, squeezing his hands around the brakes of the bike, causing an abrupt and sudden stop. James looked back when he realized he was alone.

"Are you braindead? Did Leah turn your brain to mush or something? What is up with you?"

James groaned, Nigel was always able to catch on when something was different with him.

"Nigel, I need you to promise me something, can you?"

Nigel nodded, loosening the tie of his uniform, "Of course."

James let an elderly man walking his dog past before quietly explaining his plan for the evening. Nigel gasped when James was finished.

"Your parents, they'll go crazy and how will you manage? All the way to Calgary?"

James shook his head, "It's not that far okay? I can take care of myself. I just, have to meet her, I'm sure she wants to meet me too."

James dropped his skateboard and pushed himself off, wobbling a bit as he went down the sidewalk. Nigel followed not able to say anything, struggling to understand his friend's motives. How could James do something so stupid? He had everything he needed with Debbie and Robert. They provided everything James ever asked for. He had to beg his own parents for the newest game and they refused because it "endorses violence." James never thought of how easy he has it.

"Good luck man," Nigel said solemnly as he pulled up to his driveway. His parent's environment friendly vehicle parked in his usual bicycle spot.

"Thanks." James answered waving at his friend, "Remember not to tell anyone."

Nigel nodded, removing the helmet from his head.

James peaked into the living room where Debbie slept quietly on the couch with a cookbook falling out of her hands. Robert was still at work and earlier had called and told them he'd buy pizza, surprisingly it wasn't the vegetable crap they insisted he eat, but James' favorite double stuffed pepperoni. In his hand was a small duffel bag filled with clothes, shoes, a few comics and something that belonged to his mother that he discovered in the trunk. He bought Leah some very expensive earrings that were placed in a gift bag. James planned on stopping by her house, dropping off the bag and then bailing before she asked why he was leaving. Nigel came back shortly after they separated and gave him some money then wished him luck, shook his head and left.

He couldn't believe he was doing something so bold as well. He's done some pretty whimsical things before, like creating a hate website for his grade eight teachers, that resulted in suspension and creating a risqué poster the week the sex information teacher came to John Abrams Academy. This wasn't to be funny, this was to meet his real mother, the person who carried him for nine months—or so he expected, Debbie nor Robert hinted that he was born too early or too late.

Debbie stirred a bit, as he slid the door to the backyard open. He hesitated but when her head dropped back unto the cushion, he breathed, closing the door behind him.

Leah's house was the abode he could imagine his biological parents and himself living in, all hopes of that couldn't exist of course. He was sure his mother lived in a house maybe even larger than his. Leah's wasn't a hideous trailer but a quaint, homely house where she and her dad resided alone. This summer he and Nigel rode by her house often on the way to the skate park and she would be sitting on the front steps reading the literature teacher's list of summer novels. Today, he could barely hear the tinge of music coming from the window in the front of the house. None of the popular kids, or friends to Leah was there yet. He left his duffel bag under the bush on the side of the house and kept the gift bag in his sweaty hands. He walked towards the door, the door he foolishly imagined walking to in his dreams, to have Leah standing at the door gleaming and whisking her away to the school formal. Right now he was making a quick, rude bail. But he was sure she would accept his excuse kindly. As he stood paralyzed for a few seconds about to push the doorbell, but yelling on the other side grew louder. A man's voice bellowed loudly and a woman's voice grew rose even louder. James curiously leaned in further but was surprised when a hand pushed down on his shoulder.

"Oh sh--!"

James started, but was stunned to turn around and see Leah's red face behind him. She was dressed in an amazing lavender dress, a matching ribbon tied to her long French braid. As wonderful as she looked decked out in her party outfit, her face was damp from smeared tears and her mascara darkened around her icy eyes.

"Hey," she attempted to wipe away another tear, "Your, a little early."

"I—I," James sputtered, "I know, I'm sorry but…"

Leah forced a smile, making James loosen up a tiny bit. They stood in silence, the yells could still be heard and it was making them both visibly uncomfortable.

"Do you want to talk?"

James looked consciously in the direction of the duffel bag hidden underneath their bush, he had time to reach the train station, he would try to leave with as much time possible.

"Sure," James said quietly following Leah down a small wooden path on the side of her house. In the distance, James could see a small white gazebo. She sat down after brushing off the seat, careful not to ruin her dress, and patted the spot next to her. He took the indication as an invitation to sit next to her. They sat quietly, the argument not heard, but only the wind against the leaves. James then remembered the bag in his hands.

"Oh! This is your gift. I hope you like it." James smiled a little, pushing back a curl that the wind blew into his face.

Leah gratefully took it from him, "I'll open it later." She said shyly scraping off her nail polish.

"James, I know you heard what's going on back there and my ruined makeup…"

"I didn't want to ask." James said honestly.

Leah shook her head, "My mom, she decided to come see me for the first time in years. My dad is upset and so am I."

"Why?" James asked timidly.

"Mothers don't appear out of nowhere when the last time you saw them was at a school Christmas program when you were seven."

She stood leaning against the rail of the gazebo, it creaked loudly as she leaned on it, but she ignored the sound.

"I don't know what you've heard. People have made pretty ignorant crap about my dad and I, but it's far from the truth."

James remembered hearing something about her mother being an alcoholic and going to rehab never returning to her family. He just thought that was too bizarre for a parent of Leah Cameron.

James nodded, "I've heard things, but I never believed them."

Leah looked at her feet, "Good… James, I trust you enough to tell you all of this. I think you're a goof but under all that an understanding person."

"Thanks," the colors in his cheeks rapidly turned red.

"My dad—God, I love him to death, he wasn't in the best situation in his high school years. I've heard a lot of good things about him though. Once about him saving some girl's life, but I never asked him about the hard times. I do know that my mom and he had some complicated relationship and as he tried to get his mechanic career started off and my mother was in University studying journalism, she became pregnant. I bet there were ideas about adoption and he's told me that she intended to continue her journalism career."

James felt a shudder go up his spine with the word "adoption," Leah didn't notice though; her eyes were still focused on her feet.

"Nine months later, I arrived and my mom was ready to put me up for adoption. Apparently a baby would complicate her plans. Dad had different ideas and made sure I wasn't going anywhere. I'd stay with him. He's raised me astoundingly; it stuns many people to know he's such a young, single father. My mother…. I could only remember her orange hair as a baby and then four years later Dad struggled with letting me understand that she was my mom. Then when I was seven years old, I spotted her sitting in the back of the audience with a camera when I was dressed as Mary with a doll in my hands. She's back now and my fifteenth birthday obviously hasn't been that great."

She looked up at James who was in awe of how someone so perfect lived without a mother. A mother that he was desperately searching for.

Leah returned to her seat next to James, she rested a hand on his knee.

"James, she wants me to live with her for a while, in New York, probably until I graduate. She wants to be a part of my life and I don't want her to be. But, she's my mother and even though I've wanted sometimes to have the awesome relationship my friend's have with their moms, I don't think she deserves it. I'm so confused…"

He couldn't help but instantaneously rested his own hand over her own gentle hand that rested on his knee. She looked up, looking James into his eyes that reflected the same look of perplexity that she saw in her own reflection. James realized her inching toward him.

Would Leah Cameron be his first kiss? He imagined it numerous times, but apparently, this was actually happening.

"Leah!" A woman's voice called from the fenced area of Leah's backyard.

Leah jolted, standing and shyly fixing her ribbon.

"That's my so called mom. Ellie Nash."

She grabbed James's gift. He stood also waiting to follow her actions. Instead Leah grabbed him and hugged him tightly.

She whispered into his ear, "You're the coolest guy, I've ever almost kissed."

She ran off not turning around, of course it was odd abandoning a guest in a gazebo, but that was a very steamy situation and besides, this was an extremely easier escape.

James grabbed his hidden duffel bag and skateboard, continuing down her sidewalk.

"We almost kissed." He said happily to himself, heading to Edgewood Train Station.


	8. How It Is

**This chapter is well overdue, so sorry for the wait.**

**Chapter 8: How It Is**

"Mom, Dad, what is this?"

He pulled off the sheet covering a brown trunk and a few other boxes. Dust flew around his face as he pulled it out of the attic's shadow.

Debbie glanced nervously at Robert, who was holding a box of Christmas lights in his hand. That's what they were in the attic for, Christmas decorations that would need to be up before his grandfather arrived for the holidays. Instead he abandoned the labeled boxes to look in the far corner of the large loft.

"It's just some old items James, come help me with this box."

James stood brushing of his knees, "What kind of items?"

"Old photo albums just help your dad."

He looked over at the chest again before his mother quickly draped the sheet back over it.

Later that night, after they set up the Christmas tree and dressed it in lights and ornaments and a glowing star at the very top, his mother and father were quietly discussing something in the privacy of their room. Of course James still was curious about the contents of the trunk upstairs.

In the late evening he could barely see anything in the attic he hated so much. He had asthma and the thick dust bothered his breathing often. The only light that was provided in the attic was from the small circular window and the tree in the front yard cast a scary shadow along the walls. Evidently, a daring twelve year old James Pierce would not be troubled by shadows. The blue sheet his mom covered the trunk with was still there. He stepped towards it trying not to make the floorboards squeak as he trailed across them.

The lock was left ajar; he opened it slowly as its hinges squeaked quietly. At the top of the box was an enveloped letter. Neat hand writing addressed it "To my son."

James shifted as the train left the stop in Winnipeg. It had been a day; his cell phone had over forty missed calls from Debbie, Robert, Nigel and even a few from Leah. He would guess that he would be listed as a runaway soon because he knew it took about 24 hours when you could finally report a missing child. He wanted to talk to his parents, ask them to forgive him for doing something so stupid. Nigel texted him along with a few worried phone calls making sure he wasn't lost or dying. He wouldn't reply because he worried that Nigel would blab to the Linden's or Debbie and Robert. God knows he wanted to answer Leah's calls, to hear her voice again would relax him from the tension he'd been feeling.



He still had a lot more hours to go and his time on the train had been spent playing with his cards, his video games and re-reading comic books as well as a lot of sleeping. He would admit that those things could only keep him content for a few minutes, majority of his time was spent thinking of his first words to his mother. So far he only came up with, "hello." She knew what he looked like; he'd sent pictures of himself to her. Maybe, hopefully, she would embrace him with a hug before he had to say anything. That would save him from the stuttering and fumbling of his words that would most likely happen at seeing his mother. For the first time.

"Has there been any word from James yet? There hasn't… Is there any way at all I can help Mrs. Pierce? If you could tell me, does James have any friends who would know where he was before he went missing? In most cases like these a friend would know… Nigel Linden… Thank you Mrs. Pierce."

Emma pushed the red button on her phone and sighed. She couldn't help but worry about James Pierce. His mother called yesterday, her voice weary and frantic; asking if she knew where James was. When Emma's reply was no, she asked if he'd hinted in any of their sessions of ideas to leave home or anything that would explain his absence.

She even reviewed some notes she'd made about him and he wasn't as close to being as troubled as other clients of hers that have ran away from their homes to live the lives of a drug addict or prostitute. He only suffered from not knowing who he was, which she saw as completely normal for an adolescent boy. She did know he wasn't telling her everything, there were too much missing pieces.

Emma tapped her fingers on the countertop of the island in the center of her kitchen. She read the address Debbie Pierce had given her to contact Nigel Linden. She remembered James mentioning Nigel at their first session, telling her that at school Nigel was label as a chess club geek.

She shook her head at the ridiculous stereotype that kids were still given. Remembering being called "Greenpeace" made her chuckle a little; she hated the nickname, though it described her days as a budding environmentalist in high school pretty well.

That definitely wasn't her now. She outgrew hopes of saving the world from global warming. She shifted her focus into helping people, mostly teens and young adults. There wasn't a day she regretted doing her job, she only regretted not using the advice she gave many. Not to wait for change, but make a change yourself.


	9. That's Enough for Now

Chapter 9: That's Enough for Now

A few residents in the quiet neighborhood tended to their lawns and gardens on the warm afternoon. A few kids rode their bikes on the sidewalk or were sitting on the front lawn enjoying the beginning of their summer.

"2409," Emma repeated to herself as she past 2407, her car veered slightly off the lane as she tried to read the house numbers and a passing car honked. Emma shifted quickly back into the right lane and found herself in front of 2409.

Emma stepped out of her car and looked up at the fairly large house. She was hoping Nigel wouldn't be caught off guard at the stranger inquiring about his missing friend. She was doing this to help, she would do as much as possible just to see that James reached back home.

She rang their doorbell and heard the silent pattering of feet on the other side of the oak door. A tall teenager opened the door, wiping his hands on his "Chess Champions Summer Camp" t-shirt.

"Hi…" Nigel looked her up and down and smiled when he reached her face again. "Can I help you?"

Emma smiled politely, "Good afternoon, I'm Emma Nelson."

Nigel adjusted the retainer in his mouth so he could speak clearer.

"I'm Nigel, Nigel Linden."

"Nigel, you're a friend of James Pierce right?" Emma remained polite but hated talking Nigel on his front step.

"Look, I don't know… I don't know anything about where James is." Emma looked down at her feet still a little uncomfortable with standing outside. Nigel took this notion differently and felt his heart dip, was something wrong with James? "Is he okay Ms. Nelson?"

Emma looked Nigel straight in the eye, "We can only be assured of that if you help his parents find him."

Nigel stepped out from in front of the door so Emma could step in.

"Nigel! Who is that?" A woman's voice called down the stairs.

"She's just selling something mom."



Emma looked around the house as she entered, a very well decorated house with walls covered in family portraits and pictures of Nigel. There were awards for perfect attendance and recognition to three different Linden's. The family was no doubt very successful in their jobs and academics.

"Ms. Nelson, I don't know anything."

Emma nodded, crossing her hands over her chest. "James told me you're his best friend Nigel. His parents haven't heard anything from him and they are worried. He could be considered a runaway this afternoon if we have no idea where he is."

"Are you the shrink he told me about?" He raised an eyebrow intrusively.

"I'm his psychiatrist, yes."

A few juvenile boy thoughts went through Nigel's mind at the thought of James getting to spend thirty minutes with someone so hot. Emma waited patiently in front of him oblivious to what Nigel was thinking.

Nigel shook his head, coming to his senses that he was being rude. "I've sent him messages on his phone and he won't reply to them… I can only help by telling you where he was Friday."

Emma nodded, "Go ahead."

"This girl in our grade, her name is Leah, she had a party and he was invited. I can give you her address; just don't tell her I gave it to you—she's way too cool."

Nigel rummaged through a few books by the telephone directories and found a John Abrams Academy phone book. He wrote down the address on a sheet of paper nearby and handed it to Emma.

She smiled at him, "Nigel, your helping your friend in a great way. His parents and I appreciate it so much, but if he contacts you Nigel, you should tell them."

Nigel opened the front door, nodding understandingly. "Bye."

"Bye Nigel."

"_James, you have to understand! Your mother was young, a junior in high school. She couldn't take care of you." _

James heard Robert's voice say this every single day for the past three years. He could remember it easily: he was twelve and curious and after rummaging through the brown trunk he was told to leave alone found a letter signed by Liberty Van Zandt—claiming to be his birth mother.

Finding out the people who you've called "mom" and "dad" your entire life wasn't easy at all especially when it seemed they were never planning on telling you. His breakdown in the middle of their bedroom, minutes after bursting through their closed doors and interrupting their hushed conversation. Watching Debbie try and hold him and begin to cry when he yelled at her, Robert grabbing him by the shoulders roughly for him to calm down.

"_James, what is wrong?" Robert asked unaware of the letter clutched in James' hands. _

"_You've lied to me! You lied…" _

James rubbed his eyes on the shaky train remembering how he cried that night, a few weeks before Christmas. Undeniably his worst yet.

_Debbie reached for the letter in his hand, she read it to herself before her hands began to tremble. _

"_Robert… Robert!" _

_James fell to the ground as his father let go of him to comfort his terrified mother. He wiped his blurry eyes._

"_Why? Why... did you never tell me?" _

"_You're not old enough, we were waiting." _

"_Why…" James cried and repeated the word into the carpet. His mother tried to make him stop, rubbed his back, and begged him to just listen. _

"_James, mommy is here--."_

_James jumped up, "You're not my mom!"_

_Debbie broke down again, a fit of tears and sobbing overwhelmed her. _

_James hated to see the pain he just caused his mother and stormed into his room. He slammed the door, locked it and pushed his chair in front of it before falling unto his bed and screaming into his pillow. _

_He can't remember for sure, but it felt like he'd been sleeping a whole entire week before he opened his eyes again. He could only remember Robert on the edge of his bed, his face sullen and weary resting a hand on James' own hand and saying: "James… you have to understand. Your mother was young, a junior in high school. She couldn't take care of you. But we could and we have."_



Emma looked at the piece of paper, Nigel handed her. He never put the girl's last name on the paper, which did not help her in any way but she tried to avoid turning around and bothering him again.

The street was different than his, the houses were much smaller and the backyards wooded. There weren't devoted gardeners nurturing their gardens or lawns but sitting on lawn chairs talking, playing cards, smoking and watching closely every single car that went by.

It was nice to see that Leah's house didn't have the same atmosphere as others did. There was a nice, small garden in front of the quaint house. Well kept grass and even a tire swing on the large tree standing tall in front of it.

There was a car in the driveway, hopefully the family didn't have company and her visit wouldn't disrupt whatever affair that was going on. She knocked on the door, then spotted the doorbell by the doorknob. It took a while for anyone to respond but she eventually heard a mellow voice say, "Hold on a sec."

Emma groomed herself a little, before anyone answered the door. She'd been driving more than the usual today and felt a little messy on appearance at the moment. She wouldn't complain, she offered to do this tedious task and besides, her evenings lately were spent reading a novel in her comfy bed.

The door swung open in front of her.

"Hi," the person said huffily before the door was even completely open.

Emma looked up, a bit caught off guard. "Hi, I--."

Her face fell, a mock to his own dubious expression.

"Sean?"

"Emma?"


	10. Nice Seeing You Again

**Chapter 10: Nice Seeing You Again**

The few seconds of babbling Emma did on the steps of Sean Cameron's step was driving herself crazy. He laughed at her when she stopped, took a deep breath and tried to talk again.

"Hi Sean."

Sean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Emma, she was surprised at his affectionate greeting. She hugged him back though, ineptly patting his back.

"Hey Emma."

He let go of her and she straightened out her shirt, clearing her throat.

"How have you been Sean?" She finally asked as he motioned for her to come in. She was surprised to find it so clean and organized.

"I've been good Em. You look like you've been doing great."

She nodded, "I guess so."

He chuckled, "You've always looked great."

Emma stood in silence with her hands clasping her purse. Sean crossed his arms and was staring at her, a small smile on his face. They hadn't seen each other for 15 years and the last time they talked was one of her worst days. Remembering it sometimes brought tears to her eyes, she believed the situation currently would have been completely different if he didn't mess up like he did.

She soon recollected what her purpose was in coming to the house. It definitely was not for Sean but something—she wasn't sure what, had brought them face to face again.

"So aren't you going to ask what I'm doing here?" Emma finally spoke up, finally removing her eyes from her shoes and looking into Sean's eyes.

He shook his head, "I was planning to. Hoping you would offer to tell first."

She handed him the piece of paper Nigel had written on and he read it quickly, "Leah? Wha--." Sean asked bemused as to why Emma would have his daughter's name and their address.

He stopped when Emma shook her head, "I'm a little confused myself. Is she your…"

"Yeah… she's my daughter, Leah Cameron. I guess you ran into Ellie or something."

Emma shook her head, "I haven't seen Ellie since she graduated. Are--are you two married?"

"No, we aren't thank God. She just came back from New York last week so I assumed you saw her recently or something."

Emma smiled and slowly shook her head. Sean noticed her mood change from confusion, to shock and at the moment she seemed a little frustrated or sad.

"This is hard for me Emma. I know I hurt you and I'm a—a bastard for hurting you. I can't say though that my irresponsible actions didn't give me the best thing in my life. Leah is an amazing girl, she actually reminds me of you."

Emma felt her face get flushed; she was flabbergasted when a tear fell from her eye.

Sean simultaneously reached for her hand, "Em, I don't mean to upset you. It's just that… there's a lot to be said, by me and by you. I mean, here you are after all these years and both of us have no idea where to start."

Emma pulled her hands away from his. She wasn't sure if Sean truly understood that she didn't randomly show up on his doorstep to reconcile after fifteen years. It was for James Pierce, she needed Leah Cameron to simply tell her if she knew where James Pierce was.

"Sean, I'm not here to talk about what happened back then."

"Don't you think we should? The way we left of…"

Sean was saying words; she wasn't sure what because she was trying too hard not to cry and tell him how much she was hurt by what he did and the reason she could never trust another man. Instead she grabbed her purse and turned towards the door.

"Emma," Sean tried to make her stop wiggling the door's knob and listen to what he was saying. "Emma, I told you I was sorry fifteen years ago. I'm telling you again, I am sorry that I hurt you." Emma finally was able to open the door and ran to her car opening it and slamming the door shut. She glanced at Sean, crushed, standing motionless in his front door. She revved up the car, running away from him as she did fifteen years ago.

_Sean placed his hands on Emma's shoulders, she stood up walking to the next corner of her room. _

"_Why are you breaking up with me?" She asked him hiding in the shadow of an old bookcase._

_Sean sat down on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands and rubbing his face._

"_Why…" Emma asked again almost in a whisper, "Why!" she changed her tone to a scream, scaring herself._

"_She's pregnant, Em." _

_Emma scoffed, "Ellie is pregnant."_

_Sean stood and slowly walked over to her, "Emma, I was angry with you and not even thinking."_

"_When is she due?"_

"_Two more months." Sean finally muttered._

_Emma moved away as he attempted to hold her, "Well then, I hope you and Ellie and your child have an amazing life." _

_She ran up the stairs through the quiet house, the rest of the family were at dinner, Emma now wished she'd chosen dinner over time with Sean._

"_I was angry with you Emma! You were confusing me by making it seem that you still cared for me and you were dating Peter. I shouldn't have slept with Ellie, I regret it, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you when everything between us felt so right." _

_Emma grabbed her keys heading towards her car, an early graduation gift from Snake. _

"_Where are you going?" _

"_I don't know," she muttered._

"_Emma… I'm sorry." Sean didn't chase after her, he wasn't surprised that she hated him now, who wouldn't? He was even disgusted with himself. _

_Emma looked back at the entrance of her house Sean standing on the porch, frowning. She was so tired of running… so tired. _


	11. Face to Face

Chapter 11: Face to Face

The taxi only could drop him off at the closed wrought iron gates. He swung the duffel bag over his shoulder and handed money to the driver. Wedged between his fingers was a recent envelope she'd sent to him which he'd used for her address.

When he approached the gates he realized they wouldn't automatically open, instead there was a keypad that required a code for entry placed right in front of it.

"Excuse me," A man's voice called from behind him. James turned to stare at the uniform clad man who was stepping closer to him, "are you trying to get in son?"

James nodded, shaking his wildly. He could see the badge on the man's jacket, confirming he was neighborhood security.

The man whose tag simply read _Anderson_ pointed to a gold plaque embedded into the thick stone walls that encompassed the community. "This is a gated community, private residence homes. Is someone expecting you?"

"Yes," James finally answered, "my sister is expecting me." He looked away as he lied, unable to think of another excuse for randomly showing up at an exclusive neighborhood.

The guard led him over to the small building that he'd completely overlooked as it was surrounded by thick trees. He followed behind the man, stuffing the envelope in his pocket while trying to remain inconspicuous.

From what he could see behind the gates, the homes were very large, larger than his own which was considered very large by most of his private school classmates. Unlike his neighborhood, there weren't any children playing on the immaculate grasses on the front yards of these houses, which were almost as large as football fields. A car leaving was driven by a white-haired woman; she looked suspiciously at the young boy who was standing by the window of a security booth.

Anderson appeared on the other side of the window and moved the mouse of the computer in front of him.

"Who's the person you're visiting?

"My sister, I mean—Liberty Isaacs."

The man's fingers rapidly tapped away on the keypad. "Your name please?"

"Danny Van-Zandt."

Anderson waited for a minute staring at the computer screen before shifting his attention to James once again. He huffed, picking up a phone and waiting.

"Good afternoon, I have a Daniel "Danny" Van-Zandt at the gate for Mrs. Isaacs… Yes, yes, thank you Miss."

He placed the telephone back on the base and then smiled for the first time at James. Luckily, James' plan to used Danny's name had worked. Initially he'd feared that if the plan didn't work, not only would he be unable to see his mother after a long journey, but that he'd be turned over to the police.

He was relieved when Anderson scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to James trembling hands.

"This is the house number. You're going to walk straight down this road," he pointed left down a sidewalk surrounded by luscious green shrubbery. "Then take a right. You can't miss it. The lake is in the backyard."

The gates slowly opened for James and he waved and thanked Anderson as he walked through. He started in the direction that the man had given him, also observing the almost utopian neighborhood with yards full of grandiose lawn art of fountains or man-made creeks.

A couple, a very older man with an extremely young wife was reclined in chairs on their wrap around white porch. The wife dropped her large glasses and inspected James as he walked by, shamefully caught staring. He quickly looked away, walking faster as he neared the next intersection street to turn right.

Turning the corner, he could see the only house at the edge of the street. Behind its fence you could see the glint and reflection of the sun on the water. James found his legs moving at a rapid pace as he gazed in awe at the three-story house. Its appearance was similar to that of a lake house Nigel's parents use to rent. Yellow stucco and cobble stone paving, with white paned windows. Unlike the other front yards in the neighborhood, it wasn't flamboyantly dressed and over done with unnecessary lawn decorations. It had a great garden, rose bushes lined up on both sides of the walkway that led up to the porch steps. Inching closer he could even see a mat in front of the door that read "Welcome Home."

James paused at the edge of the driveway, seeing the profile of a moving silhouette behind a curtain.

Timidly he started toward the door, his palms sweating on the straps of the bag he held sturdily on his shoulder. The clothes, games and skateboard he'd managed to stuff into the bag felt heavy all of a sudden. Or maybe it was just his subconscious mind and the racing heart in his chest that made him want to stop and try to figure out what he was really doing.

Instead he kept on walking, pushing the button on an intercom that replaced a doorbell on the space next to the extremely tall oak door.

It took a while for someone to respond, he jumped at the sound of a woman's voice. "Daniel Van-Zandt?"

Was that his mother's voice? It was shaky and high pitched, not at all like he imagined.

"Yes, Mrs. Isaacs?" He questioned.

There was a long pause, "Hold on a minute."

He was shocked to hear the door handle clicking and swung open in front of him. He was stunned to see a lady who was not his mother. This lady had milky white skin to begin with and her face was framed by shoulder length platinum blonde hair. She was very petite, probably in her early twenties and was looking at him with a look of confusion.

"You're not Daniel Van Zandt, who are you?"

James wiped his hands on his jeans and stared dumbfounded at the lady without an explanation to give her. She reached for a button on the wall to the left and he immediately lifted up a hand to stop her, fearing that this might be a signal to security. She didn't push it, but her finger hovered over the button.

"Paige, who is it?" A voice called from a hidden location of the house. James tried to peek in, feeling that voice belonged to his mother. It was exactly how he imagined, low, yet gentle and soft.

The lady who was now identified as Paige stepped in front of him to prevent him from snooping. "A teenager, it's not your brother." She stared at the bag on his shoulder, "who are you?"

"My names is—is James Pierce. I have to see Liberty Van Zandt."

Suddenly a tall woman emerged from behind one of the mild yellow painted walls behind Paige. It was her, Liberty Van Zandt. A definitely older version than the high school picture that was left in the trunk. Her brown hair was wavy and held by a bow that was resting on her back. She was staring at him in shock, even dropping a few sheets of paper from her motionless right hand.

Paige stepped back now, unsure of what was going on. Liberty seemed to regain her senses, shaking her head and placing a hand on her forehead. "James?" She asked, her bottom lip shaking as if she were going to cry.

He nodded, stepping forward and relieved that she was abruptly wrapping her arm around him, repeating his name as she held him.


	12. Stalemate

Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.

**Chapter 12: Stalemate**

Paige picked up the papers that Liberty accidentally scattered moments before. She hesitated, not sure what was going on but finally left the room without a word. He was shocked to hear Liberty crying in front of him, when he was smiling from the way he felt. He never thought this moment would cause tears. She finally let go of him and wiped her face.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, gently resting a hand on his cheek.

He shrugged, "To see you."

She shook her head as if trying to collect all the thoughts that rushed through her head. "James, how did you get here?"

He felt disappointed now that her tone was worried. He'd never considered that maybe she could get in trouble also. And his parents would probably make a big deal out of this. Going as far as taking legal action would be typical of Robert.

"I've been on the train for the past couple of days from home." He admitted in one breath, studying her face closely to see her reaction.

She was frowning, standing to her feet and pacing, placing both her hands on her hips. "Do your parents know?" She asked, cursing when he shook his head. "You've traveled all the way here and your parents don't know?"

He nodded slowly not sure what she would do next. He didn't want to feel this worry now. Not when he'd finally found his mother and she was standing right there. She seemed to stop and think briefly and he hoped that she was thinking of some way to make an excuse for him. To his dismay she walked over to a nearby phone, extending it towards him. "James, you have to tell them."

"But… I--I came to see you mom. "

She looked at him with wide eyes when he muttered mom. She looked down at her feet and then back up at him. "Please call your parents."

"You're not going to make me go home are you? I can't go back now! I've finally found you. Please don't make me go back."

Liberty groaned, shoving her hair back and then studying the boy in front of her. She was still shocked that this wasn't really J.T. in front of her. They looked uncannily alike. Except his hair was curly like Danny's and he was… her son. She was thinking of the mistake she made, writing him back. The photo he sent her was enough to convince her that her son actually wanted to know her. She wanted to know him also and despite giving her word to the Pierce's, not to continue visiting James for his own good, she found it harder to pretend he never existed.

"Please," James pleaded, looking at her with desperation. She could see J.T. eyes as he did so.

She nodded, "Call them, I'll see what I can do."

He didn't want to push the numbers of his house number into the phone. His parents would never let him explain and just rush here to drag him back home. There was some promise that Liberty would try to reason with them and hopefully allow him to stay. So far the way he pictured a reunion with his mother was not playing out right. He'd only thought of some fantasy, that she'd accept him into her ritzy home, call him son and live happily ever after.

"James, do it now." She ordered pointing to the phone. Her voice was gentle even when she seemed upset.

Reluctantly his fingers entered the number into the keypad. He held to his ear and was surprised to her Debbie frantically answer after one ring.

He sighed before replying, watching Liberty as she stared at him. "Debbie?"

"James! Oh, James. It's him--baby where are you?"

"I'm in Calgary, with Liberty Isaacs. My mom."

There was a brief silence, "James, are you okay? You don't know how worried everyone has been. We'll have you back home immediately."

"No! Debbie, I want to stay." He looked at Liberty as he said this; she avoided his eyes and stared down at her feet. He huffed before continuing, "I chose to come here. Nigel didn't know… no one knew. Not even Liberty. She's… she's my mother and I want to know her. I can't continue to live like she doesn't exist."

He was surprised not to hear Debbie's usual soft response. Instead, Robert's voice answered him. "Is she there?" He asked, "How do I know your really okay James?"

"I'm fine, I swear. No need for police or anything. She's sitting right here Robert."

"Let me talk to her."

James gave the phone back to Liberty. Who accepted it taking a deep breath. "Hello Mr. Pierce, Liberty Isaacs."

He watched her closely, unable to hear Robert's words. His mother sounded so professional with the best poker face he's ever seen. James couldn't hear Robert's voice, whuch he wanted to accept as good, Robert was much louder in rage. He could only note she muttered "yes" mostly and nodded her head. Eventually she hung up the phone with no emotion on her face. He waited for her to tell her the deal. Apparently things worked out better than he expected, or she would've said more.

She stood from where she was sitting and crossed her arms. "I hope you realize how much torture you've put your parents through. You were basically considered a run-away."

"I know but, I couldn't tell them."

She put a hand on his shoulder, "You have two days. Your parents are giving you two days. The thing is, I'm in a situation right now. Something that's vital to my entire career. But I plan on spending as much time with you as possible."

James smiled, swinging his arms around her, "Thanks mom."

She pat his back, "I also don't think… you should call me that, James."

"Why? You're my mother."

"Yes, always. I know Mrs. Pierce wouldn't like that. Liberty, okay?"

He nodded, not liking her request. He'd wanted a reason to call Debbie mom. A reason he couldn't even conjure up since he found out three years ago. Now, he had a reason to and he wasn't allowed. Liberty was next to him and he wondered if he'd ever hear her say son. He was waiting… James had two days. She'd realize she couldn't let go of him again. She'd fight for him.

--

There was a reason she couldn't sleep lately. Two reasons actually. She'd just received a phone call from a more relaxed but clearly upset Debbie Pierce. James was okay, he'd taken a train to Calgary to meet his biological mother. A fact that Debbie nor Robert Pierce informed her of when they came to her for her services. That tidbit that was left out would've made the search for him extremely easier. She knew most cases like this was caused from situations like his own. Emma was never anticipating to hear who the person was. She was extremely shocked to hear Debbie's voice filled with scorn utter Liberty Isaacs.

The world was extremely too small. Not as large as she wished it was. That was what she blamed the

second reason on: It was a small world filled with problems bigger than she was capable of handling. Sean's apology still lingered her mind… he really hurt her back then. It hurt even more to see him yesterday. That was probably the reason she couldn't sleep, insomnia wasn't the case. Hurt was the only cause, she was still hurting.

She had is address balled up and tossed somewhere in her car. Sometime in between slamming her car door shut and making a stop at a bar she'd managed to try and get rid of one thing she wanted nothing to deal with. In the midst of doing some good for a marked "missing" teenager, she'd been sent to the front door of someone who for the past fifteen years made her blood boil at nights. Who made her want to scream when she saw her friends planning a wedding, or buying baby clothes. Who made her closest friend the bottle of wine she would hug on nights like these.

But Sean also made her as compulsive as their affair in high school and just make her want to do something outside herself and entirely different Emma.

Testing her legs, Emma stood and closed the green glass bottle. She was able to walk, three glasses of wine wasn't causing her to feel dizzy and she had her keys in her pockets and a car parked in the driveway. In that car were an address and a few things she should have done a long time ago.


End file.
